


Piano Notes

by SageTheWriter



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageTheWriter/pseuds/SageTheWriter
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Piano Notes

It is Tuesday.

This isn’t special in and of itself. Lots of things happen on Tuesdays, just like any other day of the week. But this Tuesday is special. Today, Adrien will be giving a recital.  
But not in a large, echoing music hall. Oh, no. Adrien has not been in a music hall since he was seven. His parents had taken him to listen to a violin player named Violet Tonalité. American, but with a French name. As Adrien recalled, he had been bored two minutes into the performance, and fell asleep before it was halfway done. After that, his parents had opted to leave him at home with Nathalie whenever they went to listen to music. Now Adrien would not mind attending a Violet Tonalité recital. Who knows? Perhaps he would even enjoy it.

Unfortunately, it’s very unlikely that this will ever happen. Adrien is kept on a tight leash nowadays. It’s doubtful he would be allowed to go listen to a violin, no matter how talented the musician. Besides, Violet Tonalité is no longer touring. She has renounced the violin and is now a lawyer in Cincinnati.

What were we talking about? Oh yes, Adrien’s recital.

Adrien always gives his recitals at home, in the safety of his bedroom. Under normal circumstances, he would be performing in front of his mother, Emilie Agreste. But these are not normal circumstances. You see, Madame Agreste mysteriously disappeared little more than a year ago. Gabriel Agreste is kindly taking her place.

I hope you realize that my previous statement was sarcasm. Gabriel Agreste is not kind. He is a complicated man, and I have much to say about him. But we are not talking about him today. We are talking about Adrien and his Tuesday recital.

When Gabriel enters the room, Adrien is sitting at his piano. It’s a grand piano, the best that money can buy. Adrien knows the keys, knows the familiar touch of smooth black wood and the thin strings inside its body. Madame Agreste used to call them the guts.

_Are you plucking the guts today, chaton?_ she would say, and Adrien would giggle, because Maman, that’s so morbid! She always laughed when she said it, and it soon became their little private joke. Whenever Adrien was feeling down, his mother would come in and ask him to pluck the guts. They would laugh, and he would always feel a little better.

Adrien is not laughing now. He’s nervous, and also sad. This is his third recital for his father, and he’s dreading it already. You see, he has not been practicing enough. He has been running around as the superhero Chat Noir, and when he _is_ home, he’s too busy or too tired to play piano. He has been using his phone to play music, to fool his guards. He thought he would be caught, that someone would come in and see that he was not there, and go out and look for him.

But nobody ever came. And so Adrien never practiced.

It’s time to begin. Adrien places his fingers on the piano keys, deeply aware of the large man in white sitting on the bench next to him. His father’s weight is making the bench lean slightly to the side. That never happened with Madame Agreste. She was light, as light as a feather.

Adrien takes a deep breath, and he begins to play.

The notes drift out of the piano and glide through the air. The piano makes mournful sounds, deep and dark and mysterious. Adrien keeps his gaze focused on the keys. He does not want to miss a note. This song must be perfect. For you see, Adrien has never played this song in front of his father before. This is the song he was practicing with his mother, before she vanished. In fact, he had been playing it with her the day before she was gone.

He hasn’t played this song in a long, long time. For more than a year, he hasn’t even heard the notes.

But now he plays it. And oh, how wonderful a sound! Yes, it is mournful, but it also sounds sweet. The notes dip and rise and dip again, sounding all the world like two voices humming together in perfect harmony.

Adrien has not played this song in a year. But his body remembers. His hands go where they need to go, his fingers dance where they need to be. And his heart remembers, too. It gives him happy memories of Madame Agreste, when she was sitting on the bench beside him. He remembers her voice, soft but energetic. He remembers her gentle touch guiding him through his mistakes. He remembers her scent, rose petals and cream. That was not truly her scent, of course—how can one smell of something like cream? But he had always associated it with her. And he could never quite put his finger on the actual scent.

The recital is going well. Adrien knows the piece, despite being out of practice. Gabriel is impassive, but Adrien is not playing for him. Though he does not know it, deep inside his heart, he’s playing for his mother. He’s playing for the hope that she will come back. The song is halfway done…he can do it this time. He can make it perfect. He can make it all okay.

Then he makes a mistake.

He hits the wrong note. It’s a fraction too early, it should’ve come a second later. The sound pierces Adrien like a knife. He lets out a soft gasp of horror, or perhaps one of pain. Beside him, Gabriel flinches slightly, just like he always does when his son makes a mistake. But Adrien is not looking at Gabriel. He is still playing his piece, but it is wrong. It is not perfect. He made a mistake. The bubble is popped, and he feels rather sick.

Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. His fingers land on the wrong key. A high, sickly note where there should be a low one. The mistakes keep on coming. He does not know this piece. He can’t recall what comes next. His hands start to slow. The notes. They are _wrong_.

Adrien takes a deep breath, trying not to panic. He remembers what his mother said whenever he messed up.

_Don’t worry, chaton_ , she’d say. _Accidents happen. Just keep moving forward, and finish the piece. We’ll talk about the mistakes later. For now, do your best_.

Adrien is doing his best. But right now, his best isn’t very good. Gabriel has turned to look at him, stunned. The music has become nearly unrecognizable. How can his son be making so many errors? But Adrien is hunched over the piano. He’s staring at it in desperation, his fingers dancing across the keys as if in a panic. Gabriel doesn’t know it, but he is playing the piece inside his head. No, that’s not quite accurate. In fact, he is simply listening to how his mother played it the first time, a year and a half ago.

_No, no, chaton_ , she had said, gently pushing him aside on the bench. _Here, let me do it. Let me show you_. And she’d shown him. She’d gotten every note right. He could still hear it in his head, the beautiful music she had made.

_You see, chaton?_ she had said lightly, as heaven flew out of the piano’s soul. _You take the right steps, and everything will turn out fine._

Adrien plays harder. He presses too hard on each key, making the errors more jarring. He cannot stop his emotions from bubbling over. Soon he is banging the keys, awash with fury. He’s not doing it right. He’s doing it _wrong_. He has to hit the right notes. He has to take the right steps, or else it won’t turn out fine. If he messes up, it won’t be fine! Nothing will be _fine!_

And then, suddenly, Adrien is done with the piece. As the last sour note leaves the piano, he bangs the cover down on the keys, so hard it almost breaks. He is shaking. No, not shaking. Trembling. He stares at the cover. He sees his own bright green eyes looking back at him. They remind him of someone. Someone who is _not_ fine. He buries his face in his hands. He trembles.

“Dammit,” he chokes out. “Why can’t I sound like _her?_ ”

And all is quiet.

Gabriel is staring at him. He sees his young son, broken by loss. He sees a shaking child, sitting with his head in his hands. He sees Adrien, who looks so much like his mother. Who is hurting.

And he does nothing.

It is Tuesday, the last Tuesday of the month.

The recital is over.


End file.
